Road Trip through the Ozarks

Christian County, Kentucky, to Hickory County, Missouri

Recently, I took a few days off from the usual humdrum and made a fast trip west to visit my family. I drove to Wheatland, Missouri, and picked up my sister; then she rode along with me to Kingman County, Kansas, where we spent several days visiting with my brother and sister-in-law. Then I took my sister home again, and came back home myself. The entire trip was about 1500 miles.

Here are some of the sights from the first day, as I traveled from Hopkinsville, Kentucky, to southwest Missouri.

 This gas station in Wickliffe, Kentucky, is a familiar landmark just before the long approach through the swamps to the Ohio River bridge.

There was no traffic on the bridge over the Mississippi River, so I drove slowly, put my camera out the window, and blindly took some pictures. Most of them were out of focus and wildly tilted (not surprising,) but this one isn't too bad. The trees are growing on the extreme southern tip of Illinois. The Ohio River is on the far side of the trees and the Mississippi River is in the foreground. The two rivers come together in front of the trees and continue as the Mississippi to the ocean.

 

Much of the land in the Missouri Bootheel was cypress swampland until the 1890s. It was considered a great engineering accomplishment when nearly all the trees were cut and the swamps were drained and converted to farmland. Today, it's a very productive agricultural area, but a rich and complex ecosystem has been lost forever.

Most of the hay harvest this year in southern Missouri and southern Kansas was put into big round bales like these. We did see a few big square bales in Kansas. We speculated that they could be packed closer on a truck than round bales and that they would be more stable during transport.

In a gas station, I saw this stuffed bobcat and bird (I think it's a quail.) I don't think they'd win any taxidermy prizes, but they certainly were attention-grabbing, especially for little children.

The other end of this shop in Van Buren, Missouri, was more modern and less cluttered, but I really liked the look of this end. Van Buren always has something interesting to see. I took a few minutes off to drive around town and look at the Current River.

My next stop was at Winona, where I pulled into a gas station to study the map and plot a route across the Ozarks. I had finished my map reading and I was waiting at the stop sign to get back on Highway 60, when a woman in a Ford Explorer rear-ended my car. She was apologetic, but she didn't explain to me why she did it. My car didn't appear to be damaged, but I got her insurance information anyway. "Just in case," I told her.

I pointed my camera at the road as I went down some of the big hills. Here are two pictures that turned out all right. I'm thankful for Highway 60 which is all four-lane these days, but I always enjoy the point in the journey when I turn northward on a two-lane and head across the Ozarks toward Wheatland. I've seen some great scenery from the two-lanes in the Ozarks.

I usually go through Lebanon, but I decided to take some blacktop county roads (about 50 miles of them) and go through Buffalo instead. (This information is for those who really know their southern Missouri geography.) That's how I happened to pass through Conway, and by the way, it was the first town I'd seen in quite a while.

I finally arrived at my sister's house a little before sunset. When I opened the trunk of my car, I couldn't close it again. Once opened, the two parts of the trunk latch were misaligned and impossible to connect. So I called the woman's insurance company and made a claim that night.  (Lesson: Always get the insurance info, even if the car does not appear dented at first glance!)

For the rest of the trip, I had to fasten the trunk with a bungee-cord. We put most of our gear in the back seat because it was more convenient. When I got home again, I took the car to the body shop for an estimate, and the guys there bent it back enough to close it properly. Now, I'm just waiting for the appointment in about a week to get it fixed for good.

The Almus Hill / Almus Lentz Legend

DNA answer to a family tree question.

According to the story that was passed down in my family, our great-great grandfather Almus Lentz was born in Germany. By the time he was 8 or 9 years old, he was an orphan. He stowed away on a ship that was headed for America, but mid-voyage, shiphands discovered him and hauled him up to meet the captain. A kindly Irish couple named Hill took pity on the frightened lad and paid his passage. In America, the Hills took Almus into their home and continued to provide for him. They had no children of their own, so Almus was like a son to them, He even took their name, becoming Almus Hill and giving up his old name, Almus Lentz. This was how our family acquired the Hill name.

As I researched Almus Hill/Lentz around the internet and corresponded with other descendants, I learned that there were other versions of this legend. In one branch of the family, it was told that Almus was an out-of-wedlock child born to a Lentz girl in Ohio. To hide this birth, the wealthy Lentz family gave the newborn baby Almus to their housemaid Mary Ann Hill. They told her to take the child and raise it as her own because they never wanted to see it again. Thus, little Almus should have been a Lentz, but he became a Hill.

In another branch of the family, a similar story claimed that either the wealthy Mr. Lentz fathered a child (Almus) with a servant girl, or Almus was the son of an unmarried Lentz girl. Whatever the case, Almus lived in the Lentz home until he was 8 or 9 years old. One day, Mr. Lentz decided to free himself of this unwanted child. He gave Almus to John and Mary Ann Hill who worked for the Lentz family. The Hills were told to take the boy and leave and never to speak to anyone of this boy being a Lentz. So, Almus Lentz became Almus Hill. This version of the legend also included the adult Almus calling the Lentz family "filthy rich bastards" and saying that the Lentz family was from Austria.

In each case, these stories, told by Almus Hill to his children, were faithfully passed down through several generations to the present day.

Facts contradict the Hill/Lentz legend

Family tree researchers have never found any evidence that the Lentz stories are true. All the evidence pointed to a much less dramatic birth and childhood for Almus Hill. His parents, John Hill (1821-1849) and Mary Ann Jones (1824-1844), were married on February 26, 1843, in Trumbull County, Ohio. Almus was born on December 23, 1843. His mother Mary Ann died on June 20, 1844, of unknown causes. She was buried in Mahoning County, Ohio.

Soon after his wife's death, John Hill enlisted in the Army (4th Infantry, Company C) and was sent to Fort Scott, Kansas. When hostile relations with Mexico became war in 1846, John Hill's company was immediately sent to Mexico under the command of Zachary Taylor. In the Battle of Monterey in September, 1846, during the first day of heavy street fighting, John Hill was severely wounded. He was discharged from the Army on April 4, 1847, at Jefferson Barracks near St. Louis, and died on May 31, 1849. He was buried beside his wife Mary Ann in Mahoning County, Ohio.

When his father died in 1849, six-year-old Almus Hill was an orphan. We don't know who took care of him after his mother died or while his father was in the Army. We do know that Almus was living in the home of Robert and Rachel Hill of Ashland County, Ohio, in 1850. Robert Hill was Almus's uncle -- probably a great uncle. He and Rachel had just one child, a daughter who was 11 years older than Almus.

Almus grew up with Robert and Rachel in Ashland County, Ohio. He married an Ashland County girl, Lucinda Martin, and they had seven children who survived to adulthood. In the late 1870s, Almus inherited his mother Mary Ann Jones's share of Jones land in Mahoning County.

All of the facts in the above four paragraphs are supported by historic records. I'll add one comment -- Almus's role in the Robert Hill household was probably very similar to being an only child.

DNA solves the riddle

How could the documented facts about Almus Hill be so different than the faithfully remembered, faithfully retold legends about him? This question bothered me. I eventually realized that only DNA testing would ever definitively settle the Hill-or-Lentz question.

When I found a DNA study of 517 people named Hill, I wrote to the project administrator (a Mr. Hill, of course) with some questions. He suggested that a Hill male from my family contribute DNA for testing. Even if it did not match anyone at present, perhaps it would match someone in the future. Within the same DNA company, I also found a Lentz study.

I thought about it for a few months, and finally I asked my brother to contribute a sample. He graciously agreed, and I submitted the order. The sample kit arrived quickly. My brother swabbed the inside of his cheek as directed, and returned the kit to the company. Within a month, we had the results-- 35 out of 37 markers matched with Mr. Hill of California. This close of a match is considered significant. Odds were good that we shared a common ancestor within 10 generations.

I contacted the Mr. Hill of the matching DNA sample, and he confirmed that he is descended from William Hill, a younger brother of our John Hill. Our first common ancestor is Rogers Hill (1799-1883), the father of both John and William. Rogers is my great-great-great-great grandfather.

We had no matches with any Lentz DNA samples. In fact, our Hill DNA is of a different haplogroup than any of the Lentz samples. (The haplogroups are the main branches on the family tree of mankind.) Beyond that, when I submitted my brother's DNA results to a much larger database of Y-test results that includes results from various other DNA companies, we still didn't match with any Lentz DNA.

Will we ever know?

The picture is still incomplete. Why did Almus Hill tell these stories to his children? Why did he choose the name Lentz for his stories? Did he hear stories of this sort from someone else, or did he invent them on his own? Was there perhaps an earlier Lentz/Hill ancestor whose story Almus appropriated? We may never solve these mysteries, but we can thank the DNA for proving two things beyond a doubt:

• Almus Hill's father was a Hill.
• Almus Hill's father was not a Lentz.

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This article was written by Genevieve L. Netz and originally published as a blog post at  http://prairiebluestem.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-almus-hill-almus-lentz-legend.html . Copyright 2012 Genevieve L. Netz. All rights reserved. Permission is granted for attaching this article to Hill family trees as long as this entire notice is included. Any other use requires written permission. gnetz51@gmail.com

 Download a PDF of this article to include in your family tree files.

My Revolutionary Ancestors

Passionate about freedom

In preparation for an upcoming get-together with my sister and brother, I've been organizing and printing some family tree information that I think might be particularly interesting to them.

On my father's side of the family, there are several lines that go back to early colonial days in New York, Massachusetts, New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, and North Carolina.  And on my mom's side of the family, some of her maternal grandmother's people were here during the same time period, in Maryland, Delaware and North Carolina. Almost all of these folks were from England originally, and several of them participated in the American Revolution.

Tonight, I made a list of our Revolutionary ancestors with a brief description of their service. I'm going to include it in the family info I'm assembling for my siblings. It's not a proper genealogical document yet because I didn't list out the sources, but I will improve it in the future.

When I counted the names on my list, I saw that we have at least ten Revolutionary patriots and/or soldiers in our family tree. I am immensely proud to be their descendant, but I am also humbled as I think of their willingness to risk their lives for the cause of freedom and independence.

I've read several of their applications for war pensions, in which they described their service, and I've decided that we have far too little respect for the American colonists who fought for freedom and independence. We say the word "sacrifice" so glibly when we talk about them, and we don't even think about what their sacrifices really were or what hardships they endured. (And that's true for all soldiers in every war, not just for my ancestors.)

I wonder if my Revolutionary ancestors would be as proud of me as I am of them. And what would they think of the nation now? The preservation of hard-won, blood-bought freedom is such an important responsibility -- am I doing my part?

Here are their names:

Four images of Revolutionary War battles
Image source and artist info

Ezra Caswell
Private for 3 years in Capt. Thomas Converse's Connecticut line, discharged at Fishkill, NY.

Smith Mapes and 
Samuel Mapes
Smith Mapes and his father Samuel Mapes were signers of the Revolutionary Pledge and both served in the Second (“South-end”) Regiment, Ulster County, New York Militia, under Colonel James McGlaghry.

Jeremiah Cory
Private in the Morris County Militia (New Jersey). The Indiana DAR* notes that he was taken prisoner during his service.

Isaac Messenger
Isaac served in Capt. Amassa Mill's Company, Connecticut Regiment, 5th Regiment of Light Horse. Seven Messenger brothers served, and all survived the war. Only one was wounded.

Reuben Martin
According to his Revolutionary War pension application, he served in Sussex County, New Jersey, militia in the company of his brother, Captain John Martin, commanded by another brother, Colonel Edmond Martin; was under Colonel Edmond Martin in the battle of the Brandywine, where he was wounded and at Germantown, and was at Middle Brook May 10, 1778, under the same brother.

Nathan Slaughter
02 Mar 1778, Subscribed to the Oath of Allegiance and Fidelity (made his "A" mark) before the Hon. Richard Mason, Caroline County, Maryland. (This doesn't seems quite as illustrious an act of service as some of the others, but signing an oath of allegiance is considered an act of patriotism by the DAR* and SAR**.)

Basil Israel
Maryland Militia. Commissioned as Ensign, August 28, 1777, and served for the duration of the war in various capacities, according to SAR and family records.

John Ferry
Private in New York Continental Line, 1st Regiment, under Col. Goose VanSchaick, (according to "New York in the Revolution, page 32.) His wife, Susannah Munn, served as a nurse for part of the time that he was in service.

Susannah Munn
Field Nurse 1st Regiment, New York Continental Line.

* DAR: Daughters of the American Revolution
**SAR: Sons of the American Revolution;
(Membership in these two organizations is limited to those who can prove that an ancestor served in the American Revolution.)

Keely's Fair Exhibits

Well done!

This week, Keely entered two exhibits in the Marketable Crafts section of the fair in Hopkinsville (Western Kentucky State Fair). One exhibit was a "Wild Thing" she had crocheted (based on the Maurice Sendak book, Where the Wild Things Are). The other exhibit was a "Veil of Isis" shawl, knitted with lace-weight yarn.

We're very pleased that Keely's Wild Thing took second place in his category. The first place ribbon went to a cute Teddy bear.

And Keely's Veil of Isis shawl won first place in it's category and grand champion of the entire Marketable Crafts section. It's a large, light-weight, beaded lace shawl. The small size when folded is due to the very fine yarn used to make it.

Keely's already talking about what she might make for the fair next year. The other exhibitors may not realize it yet, but their competition is now a lot stiffer than it used to be.

Keely has been knitting for maybe four years. Her friends at work got her started, and she took to it like a duck takes to water, as the saying goes. I can't claim any credit at all for her knitting skills. However, I did introduce her to crochet when she was about ten years old. I hoped she would entertain herself with it for a few hours. As you can see, my plan was successful.

Henna-ed Again

Hair history

Photo by Khalid Mahmood

What's the same about me and the elderly Punjabi lady in the photo? Well, let's jump to the obvious -- that is, it would be obvious if you saw me. We have both henna-ed our hair!

Yes, my hair is kind of red right now, especially the parts that were formerly gray. But even my formerly gray, now red parts are not as carrot-colored as this lady's hair. (Thank goodness!) 

When I was in my 20s, my girlfriend and hairdresser Pat  introduced me to henna. She sold me the packets of henna powder at a cheap price, and I used it every now and then for several years. It gave my hair a slightly red glow and made it feel thicker. It was fun!

Then I grew up, got busy, and had children. For years, I kept my hair long and wore it in a single braid down my back. It was a quick, tidy style that kept the hair out of my eyes.

About six or seven years ago, I had my hair cut to shoulder length. Over the next several years, I gradually cut it shorter and shorter, and now it's finally short enough that it's out of my eyes again. (I really can't stand my hair falling into my face.)

Over the past decade, I've been getting a few more gray hairs all the time. My hair is still mostly dark, but my sideburns are going gray and the rest of my hair is sprinkled with gray and white. The gray doesn't bother me -- I call it my "natural highlights." And I've always sworn that I would never color my hair because I don't want the fuss of keeping it colored.

That changed a few months ago. Keely told me that she had found an herbs and botannicals website that sold henna by the pound. She said that she had ordered a pound and she was going to henna her hair. I heard myself say, "Oh! Let's do my hair too!"

Keely read online about different methods of applying henna to hair, and she decided we'd mix the henna powder with lemon juice. She said she expected the henna to really "take" because that's the same way that wools are dyed (with an acid.)

And she was right. It was the most effective henna I've ever used! My hair turned surprisingly reddish and even looked several shades lighter than my usual dark brown. I think the lemon juice bleached it a little. All my gray hairs turned red, so my sideburns were quite red. It was sort of an edgy look, compared to my usual self. And my eyes looked very blue with my new hair color.

What I need when I get tired of my red look...

Since then, the color has faded somewhat (not completely). And of course, the gray started showing again (the exact problem that I always thought I'd avoid.) I thought about letting nature take its course. But Keely persuaded me to redo the red, so we had another henna party yesterday evening. I think my hair may be a little redder this time than last time.

I asked Isaac today what he thought about little old ladies with red hair. He avoided saying anything derogatory. My husband patted me this morning and said that I'm always beautiful. Keely is enthusiastic about my redhead look. So, in this absence of criticism, I must say that henna is still fun. 

And Keely's a redhead too. Henna with lemon juice really takes on her light hair, and the color looks good on her! I told her she should say she got her red hair from her mother.

Abigail Willoughby, 1822-1880

An incomplete story with a sad ending

Abigail Willoughby (b. 1822, Pennsylvania) appears as one of my great-great-great grandmothers in every family tree related to me that I've seen online. She was married to my great-great-great grandfather, James C. Vining (b. 1812, New York). James and Abigail are on my dad's side of the family. They were my paternal grandfather's maternal great-grandparents, to be exact. (I know it's confusing!)

Vague and missing info

Abigail Willoughby and James Vining are "brick walls," as family-tree researchers often say. Their branch of the family tree ends with them, because no one yet has learned the names of any of their parents. Abigail told an 1880 census taker that her parents were born in Massachusetts.

I like the sound of "Abigail Willoughby" -- it's almost poetic. But I don't know if Willoughby was really her maiden name or not. Most family trees say that Abigail Willoughby was born on 15 Feb 1821 in Tioga County, Pennsylvania, and that she married James C. Vining in 1838 in Lycoming County, Pennsylvania. But where did my fellow researchers get that information? Was it in a family Bible or passed down in family letters? Or was it just an estimate and a guess, copied from one family tree to another? I haven't found any birth or marriage records at all.

Fairly reliable data

Here are some things I do know about James and Abigail:

• James Vining was living in Tioga County, Pennsylvania, at the time of the 1840 census with a total of three people in his household. The exact date of the census is not given, and only the head-of-household is named. 

• My great-great grandmother Martha Almeda Vining was born in 1839 in Pennsylvania.  Her sister Abigail Christine Vining was born in 1840 in Pennsylvania. They gave this information on multiple census records.

• In September 1850, the James C.Vining family was living in Henry County, Illinois. James was married to Abigail, and they had a new baby boy, Robert Henry (b. 1848, Illinois). 

• James and Abigail had six more children between 1850 and 1868 in Illinois. Then between 1868 and 1870, they moved to Cloud County, Kansas, where they were some of the earliest settlers.

•  James Vining died soon after they moved to Kansas. The 1875 Kansas census shows Abigail widowed and living with four of the children on a farm in Cloud County. 

• Before 1880, Abigail married Silas Zenus Waters. He was a farmer,  ten years older than her. The 1880 census shows them living in Norton County, Kansas, (about 150 miles west of Cloud County). Two of Abigail's children were still with her, listed as stepchildren of Silas Waters. One of Abigail's sons (James W. Vining) was the Norton County sheriff from 1879-1883.

• Family trees say that Abigail died in 1880. The date usually cited is December 4, 1880.

Willoughbys and more Willoughbys

I've been especially curious about Abigail Willoughby because of a series of marriages that took place in Illinois before the family moved to Kansas. The two oldest Vining girls, Martha and Abigail, married Mapes brothers. And a William H. Willoughby married a Mapes sister. Were William H. Willoughby and Abigail Willoughby related? They probably were, but I haven't been able to prove it.

I've looked at a zillion census records and family trees and I still can't prove how Abigail Willoughby fits into the Willoughbys who lived in or near Tioga County, Pennsylvania, where people say she was born. The generations aren't right. She's either too old or too young for those families.

I've entertained a weird theory that maybe Abigail's real father died and then her mother married a Willoughby, so Abigail wasn't really a Willoughby by blood. And I've explored an alternative (but similar) theory that maybe Abigail was married to a Willoughby before she married James Vining, and that her real maiden name wasn't Willoughby at all.

Most recently, I've decided that she might be the daughter of Elijah Willoughby who appears in the 1850 census in Delmar, Tioga County, Pennsylvania, living with his daughter Laura and her family.  Elijah was born in Massachusetts, so that matches. Elijah's mother's name was Abigail -- hmmm. And Abigail Willoughby (my Abigail, not Elijah's mother) named one of her daughter's Laura -- possibly after her older sister?

Betsy Who?

Lately, I've renewed my research efforts, and I've turned up two pieces of information about Abigail that I haven't seen on anyone else's family tree or read in their notes. Both of them shocked me.

First, it turns out that Abigail may not be a blood relative to me. A brief family history (on the middle of p. 202, Genealogy of the Hannum Family by H. F. Temple, 1911, West Chester, PA ) that I found for Louisa V. Mapes (my great-grand-aunt,) states that her grandparents were James Vining and Betsy Ann Murphey, of New York State.

James Vining and Betsy Ann Murphey? I had to think about that! But upon examination, it makes sense. Maybe James was married to Betsy, had two daughters, became a widower, and then married Abigail several years later. That would explain why no children were born for about eight years after the first two girls.

Also, Louisa Mapes was 53 years old and in her right mind in 1911 when that family history was printed.  Surely she was the one who provided the facts about her family. She was 22 years old when Abigail died. She would have remembered Abigail clearly, but she didn't name Abigail as her grandmother!

Abigail's death

My other discovery is very sad. Last week, I learned that Abigail Willoughby committed suicide. This tragedy was mentioned in a short biography of James W. Vining, (p. 172, The History of the Early Settlement of Norton County, Kansas by F.M. Lockard, 1894, Norton, Kansas), who was one of James C. Vining's and Abigail Willoughby's sons.

[J. W. Vining's] father died in Cloud County in 1868. His mother married S. G. Waters in 1874; they came to Norton county in 1876 and settled near Edmond, their domestic life was unhappy which caused Mrs. Waters to commit suicide. Her remains were taken to Clyde [in Cloud County, Kansas] and buried beside her former husband. Mr. Waters died in 1889.

The county history where this account appears is criticized for containing gossip, but there are two unhappy facts here, whether or not they are related: (1) Abigail's marriage to Silas Waters was thought to be miserable, and (2) she killed herself.

There is nothing new under the sun -- didn't Solomon say that? I suppose that unhappy marriages have been around ever since marriage was invented. And I've seen dozens of stories in old newspapers about people committing suicide. I just didn't expect to find such a happening in my own family tree.

About fifteen years ago, a member of my husband's family committed suicide. I know how deeply we grieved about that. I also know how I grieved when my parents died. Abigail's children must have been devastated.

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This article was written by Genevieve L. Netz and originally published as a blog post at http://prairiebluestem.blogspot.com/2012/04/abigail-willoughby-1822-1880.html. Copyright 2012 Genevieve L. Netz. All rights reserved. Permission is granted for attaching this article to Vining and Willoughby family trees as long as this entire notice is included. Any other use requires written permission. gnetz51@gmail.com

A Dog in a Cat Family

Cats and dog make peace

About a year ago, Dennis brought home a little homeless Basset hound that had been hanging around his workplace and beseeching him for friendship.

I felt sorry for the little dog, but I was dubious that she would fit into a household that already had two cats. That's an understatement. To be more accurate, I was furious with Sophie for scaring the cats so badly. Every chance she got, she gave them a merry chase -- merry for her, but terrifying for Casper and Skittles, who wondered why we were allowing a monster to live at our house.

Isaac theorized that Sophie thought the cats were members of the rabbit family ("house rabbits", Isaac said,) and, being a Basset hound and natural born rabbit-chaser, she was only following her instincts. I understood that, but it was hard to feel any sympathy for Sophie as, night after night,  I had to coax Casper out of the neighbor's barns where he had taken refuge.

After a few weeks, Skittles had had enough. She decided that Sophie would not interfere with her life, and  when Sophie tried to chase, Skittles didn't run anymore. She stopped and turned around, and Sophie backed off.

Casper remained afraid, though, and Sophie took every chance to intimidate him. She restrained herself in our presence, but when she thought we weren't watching, she chased Casper, just for the joy of making him run.

I wished I could tell Casper that if he would just once turn around and give Sophie a claw in the nose, she would never bother him again.  But little by little, Casper became braver. He finally realized that Sophie didn't bother him when I was carrying him. Then, he learned that if a human was between him and Sophie, he could safely creep by.

We kept Sophie outside most of the time, but one day, she was visiting inside the house and she fell asleep. With great caution, Casper crept close to her. He was ready to run, but she stayed asleep as he sniffed her all over. I guess he had been wondering exactly what she was.

Sophie had an accident a few months ago. We don't know what happened, but she cracked her pelvis and injured one of her hip joints. She spent several weeks inside the house. If the cats were surprised at this turn of events, they quickly saw that she wasn't interested in them anymore. She only wanted to sleep (the effect of her pain pills.) We are still bringing Sophie inside at night to sleep in her crate, and I anticipate that this will continue.

Yesterday, we came to a milestone. When Dennis got home from work, Sophie came inside with him. A few minutes later, I saw Sophie and Casper, lying on the kitchen floor within four feet of each other. I would never have predicted that degree of comfort between them, a year ago.

I wouldn't say that the cats and the dog are friends, but they do accept that they are relatives. This sort of truce often exists between members of a family.

Related:
Partners in Crime
The Life of Skittles
Extreme Cat Moods
Making Friends
Kids and Kittens

The Dangerous Railroad in 1890

Thousands killed and injured

Passenger Train of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway,
around 1895. Image from Wikimedia.

In 1890, my great-great grandfather Almus Hill, a railroad brakeman, was killed on the job. He slipped while pulling a pin between moving train cars, fell under the train, and was run over.

It was a hideous accident, but not an uncommon one. Coupling and uncoupling cars was part of the job for brakemen, and it was dangerous. 

Researcher Evgenia Shnayde reports that brakemen often lost fingers when the couplings jammed or the cars lurched.

Lost fingers did not end careers. They became the mark of a brakeman; you could recognize one by their missing fingers. Considering the fact that one out of every 120 trainmen—-a railroad category that mostly included brakemen-—died on the job each year, it is not surprising that the majority of trainmen considered the loss of a finger to be a "minor" injury.

Source: A 2010 report, "When the Loss of a Finger is Considered a 'Minor' Injury", by Evgenia Shnayde for the Stanford University Spatial History Project

The truth is that all railroad work was dangerous, including railroad construction. And of course, it was dangerous to jump onto a moving train (as tramps did). But it was also dangerous to ride a train properly or even to be on railroad property. I'm not exaggerating. Here are some astounding statistics about railroad accidents in the United States during the year before Almus Hill was killed:

During the year 1889, accidents on railroads involving human life were:
   Passengers killed: 315
   Passengers injured: 2,138
   Employees killed: 2,070
   Employees injured: 20,148
   Other persons killed: 2,997
   Other persons injured: 8,602
   Total persons killed: 5,282
   Total persons injured: 25,888

But the reports do not cover the total mileage of the country; only 92.792 per cent of it. If the accident rate was the same on the roads not reporting, the total number killed was 5,693, and the total injured 27,888. These are the returns made by the railroad companies themselves, and they cannot well be suspected of exaggeration.

Source: I didn't record (and can't relocate) the source of this clipping, but I saved it from an old newspaper while I was searching for a report of my grandfather's accident.

Shall We Gather at the River

On earth and in heaven

Shall we gather at the river, where bright angel feet have trod;
  With its crystal tide forever, flowing from the throne of God?

Refrain:
Yes, we'll gather at the river, the beautiful, the beautiful river;
Gather with the saints at the river, that flows from the throne of God.

On the margin of the river, washing up its silver spray;
  We shall walk and worship ever, all the happy golden day.

Ere we reach the shining river, lay we ev'ry burden down;
  Grace our spirits will deliver and provide a robe and crown.

At the smiling of the river, mirror of the Savior’s face,
  Saints, whom death will never sever, lift their songs of saving grace.

Soon we'll reach the shining river, soon our pilgrimage will cease;
  Soon our happy hearts will quiver with the melody of peace.

---

Library of Congress,
Prints and  Photographs Division
 Lomax Collection
LC-DIG-ppmsc-00289 DLC

Robert LOWRY, a Baptist preacher and college professor (March 12, 1826 – November 25, 1899, wrote the words and music of this old gospel song. The imagery is based on Revelations 22:1 (King James Version): "And he shewed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God..."

Many Christians still love this song, more than a century after it was written, because its simple message of faith, comfort, and hope still resonates. I suspect that the song's lyrics have reminded many Christians of river baptisms where their friends and family gathered.

Library of Congress
Prints and Photographs Division
 Detroit Publishing Company Collection
LC-USZ62-107755 DLC

"Shall We Gather at the River" was sung at the funerals of both my mother's parents, Harry SEES (1893-1957) and Winnie Violet EATON Sees (1899-1932).

Related:
Robert Lowry (Biography, includes the story behind "Shall We Gather at the River")

I hope you'll enjoy these. I certainly did!
Shall We Gather at the River (Nice, traditional version, YouTube)
Shall We Gather at the River (Tennessee Ernie Ford, You Tube)
Shall We Gather at the River (Banjo and recorder, YouTube)
Shall We Gather at the River (Randy Travis, YouTube)
Shall We Gather at the River (A 1955 baptism)

From a stereoscopic image made by Robert N. Dennis in 1898

Bittersweet Holiday

     

Mama with Dennis and Steve, about 1955.
Dennis (left) is the youngest of six children.

Mama Netz, about 1975, in a church kitchen.

It has not been a good December, dear friends of the blog. My husband's mother died on December 6. She would have been 95 in January.

Mama Netz had a long, full life, and she went to an eternal home with her Heavenly Father. Knowing those things, we still mourn the loss of our mother. I call her "our" mother, because she adopted me into her family about 33 years ago, and she was my only mother for 14 years after my own mother died.

Having family responsibilities, Dennis went to Kansas City in his own car, and I drove up with the kids. After the funeral, we stayed a night with my sister in southern Missouri. The next day, we drove a nostalgic route through the Ozarks on our way home -- a route we drove many times on our trips to visit the grandparents in years past.

Taurus, Keely, and Isaac at a high spot
near Alley Spring, Missouri
where I've photographed my children
many times over the years.

When I went back to work after my absence, I jumped into the last frenzied weeks of the Christmas retail season. The endless hours of serving (and cleaning up after) the shoppers seemed a pointless trial. When I wasn't at my job, I pushed myself through the motions of creating a traditional holiday for my family. Between work and home, I became quite exhausted and even caught a cold.

On Christmas Eve (after my co-workers and I finally got out of the store), I attended a service in a church I've never visited before. I thought that singing Christmas carols might lift my spirits, but oddly enough, the congregation sang only one song in the whole service -- "It Came Upon The Midnight Clear." Still, it had a verse that seemed written especially for me:

And ye, beneath life’s crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
      Who toil along the climbing way
      With painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing.
      O rest beside the weary road,
      And hear the angels sing!

The view from our hotel window
in Independence, Missouri

Yesterday, Isaac, Keely, Taurus, and one of their friends spent the day here at the house with us. We ate too much and enjoyed a long session of gift-opening. We survived the opening of a final Christmas package from Mama Netz -- one last gift of needlework for everyone. Keely addressed my Christmas cards for me, and I'm hoping that I will finish and mail them sometime this week or next.

Late in the evening on this second day of Christmas, resting here by the road and listening to the angels sing, I feel less sorry for myself. This has been one of life's valleys, but I am climbing out of it. I must encourage my husband to climb out, too -- carry him out, if I have to!

I do assure you that the blog will soon resume. Meanwhile, I send all my best wishes to you and yours for the the remaining days of Christmas and for the New Year.

Winner of the "Most Colorful Ancestor" Award

Robert Henry Vining (1848-1888)

Robert Henry Vining was my great-great grand-uncle on my dad's side of the family -- a  younger brother of my great-great grandmother Martha Alameda (Vining) Mapes. Henry's parents moved from Pennsylvania to Henry County, Illinois, in the 1840s, and Henry was born there in 1848. He spent his boyhood years on the family farm on the Illinois prairie.

Kennesaw's Bombardment '64
Sketch by war correspondent Alfred Waud

In 1864, at the age of 16, Henry enlisted as a Union soldier (Company H, Illinois 112th Infantry Regiment). He lost a leg in the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain near Marietta, Georgia, and was discharged in 1865.

Henry Vining came to Republic County, Kansas, in 1868, and settled in the Elk Creek valley along with Ashbel Mapes (Ashbel was Henry's brother-in-law and my great-great grandfather), three Willoughby brothers, and William Oliver. All of these men were relatives or connected by marriage. They and their families were among the first white settlers of the Elk Creek area.

Henry was a member of the Salt Creek Militia that was formed in 1868 to protect Republic County settlers from the Indians. He also served as the Republic County sheriff that year.  On January 1, 1869, he married Martha Oliver -- the first marriage in Republic County, Kansas.

Henry's missing leg didn't slow him down too much. He was proud that he had given a leg in the service of his country. People called him Peggy, because he had a peg leg.  He served as a marshal in the little communities of Clyde and Concordia, Kansas, during the 1870s. Later, he was the manager of the Western Detective Agency of Clyde (a bounty hunter?), and he also ran a saloon in Clyde which was destroyed in a business district fire on January 25, 1881. (See Belleville Telescope p. 3, Feb. 3, 1881)

In June of 1881, Henry got into a bad fight. Apparently he and the schoolmaster in Clyde had already disagreed about something. Then, the schoolmaster slapped Henry's son on the ear for fighting with another boy. Henry found the schoolmaster in a store and, after an exchange of words, gave him a punch that knocked him to the floor. The schoolmaster knocked or kicked Henry down, and they scuffled.

The schoolmaster might have won the fight, being wiry and more agile with his two legs, but Henry pulled a gun. It misfired the first time, and the second shot went into a trunk. The schoolmaster abandoned the fight and rode to the county seat to file a complaint with the marshal. Henry was arrested and charged with "assault with intent to kill". I don't know what happened after that, but I'm very curious.

The editor of the Clyde Democrat, who also happened to be the schoolmaster's friend and roommate, wrote a sensational newspaper account of the above event (See "A Murderous Assault," Belleville Telescope, p. 2, June 16, 1881) .  He stated that Henry Vining was a drunkard, which may or may not have been true. The report is clearly slanted in favor of the schoolmaster -- perhaps rightfully so.

Henry Vining seems to have been well-liked by most people and was well-known in the area, so I suspect that the charges were eventually dropped, or that he was not convicted, or that if he was convicted, the sentence was light. That's just my hunch, not a proven fact. I'm still researching -- I'd love to know the rest of the story!

The Clyde Democrat ceased publication in mid-1882. I think the editor probably left Clyde at that time, and probably his friend, the schoolmaster, left too.

Henry Vining died unexpectedly in 1888 at the young age of 40. He had an agreement with his long-time friend and fellow veteran Jacob Sohlinger that, if one of them died, the other would see that he was laid to rest, wrapped in the flag. Jacob Sohlinger kept his promise, and Henry Vining went to his grave embraced by the flag and declaring his patriotism to the end.

US Flag with 38 stars.
In use 4 July 1877–3 July 1890.

This article was written by Genevieve L. Netz and originally published as a blog post at http://prairiebluestem.blogspot.com/2011/11/winner-of-most-colorful-ancestor-award.html . Copyright 2012 Genevieve L. Netz. All rights reserved. Permission is granted for attaching this article to Vining family trees as long as this entire notice is included. Any other use requires written permission. gnetz51@gmail.com .

Minnie Floretta Wood Cooley Sweat Barkely McBain McBain

Just the facts, ma'am.

This is what I've learned about Minnie Floretta Wood, a half-sister of my husband's grandmother, after a week of intensive research.

Minnie Floretta Wood married several times. Here is a chronological list of her husbands and the dates and places of the marriages:

Unknown Cooley (father of Mabel)
Married abt. 1892
Probably in Indiana

Lorenzo J. Sweat
Married 07 May 1901
Chanute, Neosho County, Kansas

Joseph Barclay
Married 18 Nov 1903
Greenville, Montcalm County, Michigan

John H. McBain
Married 31 Dec 1904
Clearfield, Juneau County, Wisconsin

John H. McBain
Married 15 May 1917
Dubuque, Iowa

And here is a timeline of events in Minnie's life, as best I can reconstruct it from census and marriage records.

1874 - 1886
Minnie Floretta Wood was born on May 14, 1874, in Macoupin County, Illinois. She was the first of three children born to William Charles and Hester Adeline (Scott) Wood. William and Hester divorced sometime after 1880, and in 1886, "Mrs. Hester Wood"  married Isaac H. Reed.

1890
The entire collection of 1890 Federal census records, except for a few pages, perished in a 1921 fire, so there's no record of the Reed/Wood family for that decade.

About 1892
Minnie Wood married an Unknown Cooley (father of Mabel) in about 1892, probably in Indiana.

1900
The 1900 census shows Isaac and Hester Reed (Minnie's mother and step-father) living in Stoddard County, Missouri. They had four children together, and their youngest daughter Hester Reed (my husband's grandmother) was 8 years old. An 8-year-old granddaughter, Mabel Cooley, and two of Hester's children from her first marriage, William Wood (21 years old) and Louise Wood Adams (a 23-year-old widow), were also living with the Reeds. Mabel Cooley was Minnie Floretta Wood's daughter.

1901
On 07 May 1901, Minnie married Lorenzo J. Sweat in Chanute, Neosho County, Kansas.

1903
On 18 Nov 1903, Minnie married Joseph Barclay in Greenville, Montcalm County, Michigan.

1904
On 31 Dec. 1904, Minnie married John H. McBain  in Clearfield, Juneau County, Wisconsin.

1905
At the time of the 1905 Wisconsin census, our Minnie ("Florence" McBain) was living with her husband John H. McBain (nickname: "Bert") and her daughter Mable Cooley in Vernon County, Wisconsin.

1910
I did not locate Minnie in the 1910 census. Her latest husband John McBain was recorded in Rockford, Illinois. He had divorced Minnie and was living with his daughter Violet from his first marriage and her husband.

Mabel Cooley (Minnie's daughter, now 17 years old) and her little daughter Christina were also living with John McBain's daughter Violet and her husband. (Violet and Mabel were step-sisters.) Mabel had married John McBain's nephew, Duncan Walter McBain.  Duncan was recorded in the 1910 census as working in Stephenson, Illinois, and living in a boarding house there.

1917
The next record that I found for Minnie was her fifth and, I believe, final marriage. The groom was John H. McBain again, and they were remarried on 15 May 1917 in Dubuque, Iowa.

1920
In the 1920 census, John McBain (married) was living in Vernon County, Illinois, with his sister and brother-in-law.

Meanwhile in the 1920 census, Minnie (married) was living in Rockford, Illinois, with her half-brother Charles Reed, her mother Hester, her daughter Mabel McBain (now divorced), and Mabel's five children (Christine McBain, 12; Lillian McBain, 8; Orville McBain, 6; Glen McBain, 4, and Birdie McBain, 11 months).

Mabel's children are recorded twice in the 1920 census. They're listed with their mother as described above, and they're also listed as residents of the Rockford Home for Children (a certified orphanage, according to documents of the period.) Mabel's ex-husband, Walter McBane, was working as a machinist is Batavia, Illinois.

After 1920
So far, I haven't found any further record of the five McBain children. I don't know what happened to Mabel after 1920. (Note: A descendant of Mable contacted us in Dec 2013. He stated that Mabel married a Morgan and had a second family, including his grandmother, after 1920.) Walter McBane seems to have remained single after the divorce. He died in Aurora, Illinois, in 1967.

In 1930, John McBain was working as a carpenter and boarding with a Jones family in Wilmington, Illinois. He was recorded as being married, but he wasn't living with a wife. He died in.Los Angeles, California, on March 23, 1942.

Find-a-Grave record for Minnie McBain

Minnie Floretta Wood McBain died in Independence, Missouri, on Feb. 28, 1936, at the age of 62,  She was buried in Woodlawn Cemetery in Independence.

Updated on 20 Sept 2011. Updated on 31 Dec 2013.

David Blaney vs. the Reads and Maxwells

Sad end of a little family

I came across an interesting abstract of an old will, and became curious about the circumstances behind it. The will was written by David Blaney in Isle of Wight County, Virginia, about 210 years ago. He named his wife, son, and mother as legatees (beneficiaries) but placed a curious restriction upon his wife (see the clause I have italicized below):

BLANEY, David: Leg. wife Helen; son Cadwallader; to my mother my estate in Isle of Wight called "Sprinfield;" my wife must not acknowledge or keep up the least connection with any of the family by the name of Maxwell or Read, Mr. Benjamin Payne, his wife and children excepted; to William Pennock, Jr.; copies of my will to be sent my brother Asa Blaney in New England, in the care of William Lee, Esq.; Col. Godwin's son and Mr. Benjamin Payne to assist in selling my estate; refers to property in the hands of Dr. Foushee of Richmond, bond of General Lee's and the deed for "Chesterville," of which Col. William Moore and his son are agents; to James Payne, son of Benjamin. Exs., William Pennock, Esq. and brother Asa Blaney. D. ----------
R. February 4, 1799
Wit: Benjamin Payne, Brewer Godwin, Alexander Wilson.
Security: John R. Read and James Maxwell.

Quoted from Wills and Administration of Isle of Wight County, Virginia, 1647-1800, Books 1-3, by Blanche Adams Chapman. Copyright 1938. Page 312 (as viewed on Google Books.) Emphasis added.

I suppose that David Blaney had some kind of feud or hard feelings with the Reads and Maxwells. I wonder if he would have been angry that John R. Read and James Maxwell posted the security bonds for the executors of the estate.

I'm nosy, so I tried to locate more  information about the Blaneys. I didn't find much. The abstract infers that David Blaney passed away sometime before the recording date of February 4, 1799. A Find-a-grave photo of a headstone indicates that Helen Blaney died on May 16, 1799. Apparently Helen was pregnant at the time that her husband died. An infant daughter named Helen Maria Read Blaney, six weeks old, died on June 25, 1799. Little Cadwallader Blaney died on August 24, 1799.

The little girl's name makes me wonder if Helen Blaney's maiden name was Read. Maybe the Reads were her family on her dad's side and the Maxwells were her family on her mom's side. Maybe David Blaney was angry at his in-laws for some reason -- all of them, except for the Benjamin Payne family.

Images from Wikipedia

Whatever the case, Blaney's attempt to control his wife from the grave seems petty -- to me, in my day and age. It was also pointless, but of course, he didn't foresee that his wife would outlive him by only a few months.

And why am I looking at Isle of Wight will abstracts?  I've traced one line of my mother's family back to Thomas Taberer (1616-1692), who was my 8th great grandfather. He immigrated to Virginia around 1650 from England and lived in Isle of Wight County. His will included the children of his wife's widowed sister (or cousin?), along with his own daughters and grandchildren.

Isle of Wight article at Wikipedia
Thomas Taberer in the 1919 Encyclopedia of Virginia
Will of Thomas Taberer (scroll down to "VI Supplementary Records")

Wet and Dry

Flood and drought in the heartland

Mississippi River near Cairo, Illinois Bridge over the Ohio at Cairo, Illinois

The last week of July, I drove to southwestern Missouri to get together with my brother and sister at my sister's house. It was great to see them, and I also enjoyed the road trip.

I crossed the Ohio River at Cairo, Illinois. It was obvious that the fields along the approaches to the bridge were planted very late due to the spring floods. On the Missouri side of the Mississippi River, I saw more evidence of flooded fields and late crops. Farms in the area were flooded last spring when the Corps of Engineers broke a levee on the Mississippi to ease the flooding in Cairo.

Most of the fields had young, broad-leafed plants growing in them. First, I thought that the little plants were probably soybeans. Then I wondered if they might be cotton, because southeast Missouri grows quite a bit of cotton. There are short-season cottons that will mature before frost, even when planted late. Whatever the crop, I'm glad some farmers in the river bottoms may get a harvest this year, despite all.
.

Hay trucks on Highway 60

NOAA image

As I drove west on Highway 60, I followed two trucks loaded with big hay bales for miles. They were probably going somewhere in the drought-stricken plains farther west, where people don't have enough grass to feed their livestock. If only their pastures could have some of the water that flooded the fields along the Mississippi this spring!

It was very dry north of Springfield, Missouri, where Charlotte (my sister) lives. My brother Dwight, who has a ranch southwest of Wichita, Kansas, says it is terribly dry there, too. He usually rents a couple of pastures to another fellow every summer, but when last winter and spring were so dry, he decided to sacrifice the extra income and keep all his summer pasture for his own cattle. He hasn't had to buy any hay yet.

Near Charlotte's house on the night that I arrived, a farmer was mowing the dried-up, stunted, mostly-dead corn plants in his field. A couple days later, he baled the stalks for cattle feed. The drought-stressed cornstalks may be high in nitrates, so the farmer will need to have the cornstalks tested so he doesn't accidentally poison his cattle. The cows won't think that cornstalk "hay" is very good, but they'll eat it if they're hungry enough. 

This longhorn cow still has grass in her pasture near Charlotte's house. It has become hay on the stem, but that's much better than no grass at all!

Droughts and floods are problems for all of us, not just for farmers. These disruptions impact grocery store prices, affecting everyone who buys food. Please, pray for rain for those farmers and ranchers who need it -- and sunshine for those who don't need rain!

Sophie Joins the Menagerie

Dog/cat issues slowly resolving

In April, a little Basset hound showed up at my husband's workplace. It was obvious to my husband that she didn't have a home.

Of course, Dennis gave her a few meals. Soon, every time he went outside, the little dog was waiting for him, begging for his attention and affection.

When Dennis came home talking about her, I knew what was bound to happen. Sure enough, in a few days, he called me at work and told me that he had brought the little hound home.

Sophie, as we named her, has never met a human she didn't like. She does well enough as a watchdog, but she's definitely not a guard dog. When the propane-tank painters arrived a few days ago, Sophie barked loudly to announce their arrival.  I walked outside to see what was happening, and Sophie was already lying on the ground, getting her belly scratched by her new friends.

I can't even begin to explain what a change Sophie has made in our cats' lives. They had always gone in and out of the house whenever they wanted, as long as someone was there to open the door for them. Then one day, a dog-monster took up residence in their territory, barking and charging at them whenever they dared to peek out the door. It was traumatizing to them!

The dog/cat situation has improved somewhat.Sometimes Sophie still has the momentary urge to chase the cats, but then she recognizes them and stops. "Oh, it's you again," she seems to think. We read that it is hard for Basset hounds to refrain from chasing cats because they're bred to chase rabbits. Cats resemble rabbits in a Basset's eyes, I guess. At any rate, I'm glad that Sophie has learned that the cats are "house-rabbits" who shouldn't be molested, at least when the people are around.

The cats know that Sophie is asleep at night, so that is their favorite time to slip outside. In the daytime,  Skittles is brave enough to walk in front of Sophie and come into the house. Casper is still a "scaredy-cat" and must be carried through the door if Sophie is present. However, he is slowly growing in confidence. He now understands that he is safe in a human's arms, and he no longer tries to escape and run when Sophie approaches.

Sophie has several interests beyond barking, getting petted, and chasing rabbits. She also likes to take break-of-day walks with Dennis, rearrange her bedding, take naps, and score doggie treats. In other words, she's nearly worthless. :) Her favorite human is Dennis, and she leaps around excitedly and talks eloquently to him when he comes home from work.

At present, Sophie's operations are conducted from a large wooden crate, laid sideways on the porch. This fall, when it's not so hot to work in the shed, I will build her a proper, insulated dog house. I've been studying doghouse plans on the internet.

The Hayfield Water Jug

Cool water in a hot place

My dad prepared thoroughly for the haying season. He overhauled all the tractors and hay-making machinery and got each component into the best working order possible. He stockpiled sickle sections and guards, rake teeth, sweep teeth, belts, hoses, tractor gas, oil and grease, hydraulic fluid, and so on. In the back of one of the pickups, he mounted the gas tank for fueling the tractors. He also mounted the wooden carrier that held the big Igloo water cooler where a thirsty hay hand could get a drink.

I didn't participate in the pre-season work in my father's machine shop, but I did make a new hayfield water jug every year. In the hayfield, I worked separately, away from the group that was putting up the cured hay. I was on the mowing machine at the edge of the uncut grass. I needed a personal water jug so I didn't have to travel far to get a drink.

Here's how I made my hayfield jug. I raided Mama's collection of jars and acquired a big glass vinegar or cider bottle. Then, I raided her cloth scraps and acquired some rags and pieces of old jeans.  I wrapped several layers of rags around the bottle, fitting the cloth to the curves, and I tacked the layers in place with enough stitches to hold them together.

Then, I enclosed the bottle in a layer of denim that I cut from the old jeans. I made some  tucks and folds so the denim would fit the bottle's shape, and I sewed it in place as neatly, tightly, and firmly as I could.

I didn't invent this method of making a hayfield jug. I watched my mother make them when I was a little child.

Every day, before I went to the hayfield, I filled my jug with cold water, and I also saturated its cloth shell. When I got to the hayfield, I found a shady place to stash it. The evaporation of the moisture from the cloth wrapper helped keep the water in the jug cool.

In the hayfield on a summer day, the hay crew got hot and dirty. We didn't have air-conditioned cabs on our tractors. The only shade was from our hats. Dust and pollen and chaff stuck to our sweat-dampened skin  and clothing. Sometimes we got off our machinery and worked up an extra sweat by moving hay around by hand or fixing something that was broken. The hottest work of all,  in my experience, was to lie in the prickly grass stubble under my windrower and pull a hot, wet, sappy clog of hay out of the crimper.

Sunbaked, gummy with sweat and dust, my arms green with grass juice after a crimper episode -- then, how sweet it was to pull my still-damp jug from its shady nook and drink deeply. If cool water ran down my face and soaked my shirt as I tipped the jug, it was a well-earned bonus.

By the end of the hay season, the denim cover of the water jug showed hard use. It had been damp to some degree all summer. It had lain on the ground and rolled around on the grimy floor of the pickup truck, day after day. The stitching had come loose in places, releasing odd folds of cloth, and threads had raveled where the cut edges of the denim were exposed. It didn't matter. By then, the water jug had served its purpose.

I would make a new jug next summer, as we prepared again to go to the hayfield.

Thanks for reading this memory of my childhood in the Nebraska Sandhills.

- - - - -

Related:
Hayfields I Have Known
The Hayfield
Newport, Nebraska: Hay Town
Bull Stories
Horse-drawn Hay Rake
Horse-drawn Hay Sweep-Rake